


Mercilessly

by lacepirate



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Captivity, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't copy to another site, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kidnapping, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), She/her pronouns for reader, dark content, kind of polyamorous relationship(s), there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacepirate/pseuds/lacepirate
Summary: After counting for so long, anybody would lose any shred of hope and fight they may have once had. Luckily, Connor isn't the best investigative prototype android for nothing.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [indifferent_depravity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indifferent_depravity/pseuds/indifferent_depravity). Log in to view. 



> ** yo this content is extremely dark and unsettling, please heed all of the tags as warnings from here forward and please remember to practice self care in exposing yourself to this kind of content **
> 
> however, if you do stick around for the ending, I hope I can make up for the angst in the beginning
> 
> also connor is like, somewhat naive in this don't come for me, I just needed him to be for the sake of the story I had set up lmao 
> 
> with that being said I genuinely hope you enjoy this if you do choose to continue! any kind of feedback, kudos, or comment is very very welcome and encouraging!
> 
> Inspired by [Escape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043664)by [indifferent_depravity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indifferent_depravity/pseuds/indifferent_depravity)

  
“You’ll be okay while I’m at work, won’t you love?”

You sniffled as best you could, but your sinuses just weren’t having the airflow thing today. It felt like you were trying to talk with a mouthful of syrup, but you still replied, lest you reap the consequences.

“Yes Nines. I’ll… be okay.”

You curled the soft blanket around you tighter, pretending not to flinch when Nines leaned forward over the back of the sofa to kiss the top of your head.

“Rest up, you need to be healthy, love.”

You nodded, watching him click the front door closed.

You didn’t move for about the next ten minutes, until you could be sure that Nines had properly left.

It’d taken you a while to realize that he sometimes hid or stood within the vicinity of the house in case you tried to make another attempt at escape. Over time though, you’d gained more of his trust, and you’d been ‘behaving’ particularly well in the last few months.

No screaming at him or for help (he’d reinforced the sound barriers – in the walls, and at the doors and windows so it wasn’t really going to do much anyway).

No attempted escapes through any of the openings (the ‘teleband’ on your left wrist that you couldn’t get off was hacked by him, so any kind of change, physiological or locational, he knew).

No attempted communication (all the electronics in the house and their subsequent communications had either been hacked to be completely disabled or weren’t present in the first place – the only thing you had that was even able to send an outgoing message once upon a time, was an ancient laptop from 2019 that was completely incompatible with all of the software needed for a connection).

Consuming all the required nutrients laid out (you’d been rigorously drilled on what you’d needed to eat, how much, and when to eat it to gain the proper amount of vitamins and keep your body functioning at its peak, while factoring in your susceptible psychological state).

The doors and windows weren’t locked though. Theoretically, you could just… open it and run. But, even if you could get past the fact that he waited around when he left, if you were to run out into the open and welcoming neighborhood, the ‘teleband’ functioned much like the bracelets worn for a house arrest, except you’d be incapacitated with an induced seizure before you could so much as yell out for help if you went too far from the house.

You’d only attempted that once, and vowed never to do it again.

You wandered very slowly to the fridge, opening it to stare at for at least a full minute before your brain registered what was actually inside.

All of the ingredients to make a hearty soup were inside. However, the energy to do so was not.

You childishly stomped your foot in frustration, and made to grab for some fruit instead. Quick, easy, and didn’t require a lot of energy to eat.

You set them on the coffee table, in front of where you’d made a nest on the sofa, before going to grab a softcover book (an honest-to-god book, instead of a digital epub) and your sketchbook that were resting in the bookshelf at the front of the living room. You plopped yourself heavily back on the sofa, where you intended to stay for at least the next eight hours.

You only half listened to the news as your hand drifted across a page of your sketchbook. It took you far too long to come back into yourself to realize you’d sketched two open palms facing up, held near each other only by the chains that bound them. It warmly reminded you of Markus Manfred’s first work, after it was revealed for the first time in a new art gallery downtown. Apparently, the first painting he’d ever made.

You sincerely hoped Markus didn’t have to go through anything like what you’ve had to in order to be able to illustrate it.

\--

You’d been drifting in and out of sleep for a little more than an hour, when you heard a very deep _boof_ that could be felt more than heard, and you couldn’t stop your face from splitting into a smile.

You got up slowly and carefully from where you were sitting to reach the front window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sumo and Connor engaged in something like a tug of war across the street, in which Connor was more than happy to pretend to lose for the jovial saint bernard.

You didn’t see either of them upon looking though, and you sparingly glanced around to see if Hank was anywhere. He wasn’t.

They must have just been leaving to go on a walk.

Disappointed, you turned around to rejoin your blanket and pretend it doesn’t weigh on your heart like it does.

But to your luck (or misfortune, depending on the view) a quiet and polite knock sounded through the front door, followed by a rough scratch, and you couldn’t help but be confused at the noise.

_“Sumo no! You can’t scratch at other people’s doors, it’s not polite!”_

You smiled like a mad person, and couldn’t help the excited racing of your heart.

You rushed up to open the door, but hesitated for a second on the lock, quickly glancing toward the ceiling where you knew a microcam was hidden. You wondered if Connor would be able to pick up its signal at all.

Shaking that hopeful thought from your head, you unlatched the lock and carefully opened the door.

A very large and partially wet dog face surged forward happily and forcefully nudged at your lower belly. You almost shrieked with laughter.

“Sumo, no!” Connor gently pulled on Sumo’s lead until he was back and sat, well behaved.

Connor cracked a small grin and looked back at you.

“We’re teaching him manners.” He said proudly.

“Well, I’d say he’s doing pretty well so far.” You beamed back. Connor’s smile faltered a little when he heard how miserable and stuffed up you sounded.

His head tilted slightly to the right, and you knew that if he chose to keep his LED in, it’d be spinning yellow right now.

“I ran into Nines before he left, and he mentioned that you were ill, I have – “ he adjusted himself to reveal a sealed glass bowl tucked under his other arm that you failed to notice. “it’s soup. I made it, but it’s actually Hank’s recipe, which was given to him by his mother, he has told me in the past that he used to make it for his son when he fell ill as well.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so I’m your child now, Connor?”

He looked shocked and ashamed for half a second before you broke your façade. It’s always been fun to talk to Connor, and Hank as well, for that matter. You don’t think you’d ever been able to talk to two people as easily as you did them.

You giggled. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Would you like to come in?” you opened the door further and gestured behind you, knowing full well that Nines would be aware of another presence in the house at this point. You also know he absolutely hated dog hair, so you’d take the small victory.

“Thank you.”

You gave Sumo a rub on the head as he passed you, and you couldn’t help it when your heart melted a little at the gentle contact. It wasn’t often in the past little while that you allowed yourself to feel happy from physical contact.

Connor turned and continued to instruct Sumo to sit and stay before continuing into the house with you.

“Thank you, Connor, you really didn’t have to do this for me, honestly-“

“It’s quite alright, I very much wanted to. I’m quite enjoying having agency.”

You smiled.

“Yeah, it’s pretty intoxicating isn’t it?” the irony of the situation didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Do you have the day off today, Connor?”

“I do,” he nodded. “that’s when I ran into Nines, I was saying goodbye to Hank this morning.”

You felt the edge of your smile dip at the mention of him. You wondered if Connor noticed, and then nervously began to wring your hands together. Connor’s eyes briefly flitted to your hands before moving back to your face with an inquiring look.

“May I heat this up for you?”

“Oh, oh my goodness no I couldn’t ask that of you Connor, you don’t have to at all, I-“ he cut you off by reaching out to gently place his hand on the outside of your shoulder. You tensed, involuntarily.

“I promise you that it’s all because I want to,” he said your name in a soft tone. “nobody would be able to _make_ me do anything anymore anyway. You can ask Hank, he’ll tell you all about it.”

You didn’t stop the laugh the bubbled up.

“Okay, the kitchen is over here.” You gestured behind you, waving your arm in the general direction.

You attempt to try and help Connor, but other than showing him where the dishware is, he shoos you back to the sofa, instructing you to rest and you comply.

Though Connor was almost identical to Nines, since he was his predecessor, in your mind he looked nothing like him. You watched him as he moved around your kitchen.

His jawline was softer. His eyebrows weren’t perpetually clenched. The most obvious difference was that instead of the cold and piercing blue of Nine’s irises, Connor’s were a very soft and inviting brown. They simply were too different in nature for you to even consider them on the same plane.

You could feel your cheeks heating, and you fought it with all that you were able, dreading the moment he would come home and nitpick apart all of the different reactions you had when Connor was here.

A cold pit of ice was beginning to form in your stomach at the thought, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to chalk it up to being sick.

It was Connor who snapped you out from the spiral you were falling into, by placing a steaming bowl on the coffee table in front of you, a soft _clink_ sounding on the surface.

“Thank you again, Connor. You really didn’t have to do any of this.”

He dismissed it with a small shake of his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The smell of the soup (what you could actually get from your inflamed sinuses) was nothing short of heavenly. You didn’t even need to taste it to tell it was perfectly seasoned, something that was strong enough to be tasted through the veil of cotton that was clouding your head.

The first spoonful nearly had you in tears from the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm you.

“Connor, this is… amazing.”

He smiled wide enough to show his perfectly manufactured teeth.

In an attempt to change the subject, you asked “I- I definitely don’t mean this to sound rude at all, but I’m a little behind on the update front,” you cringed slightly. “are you able to actually taste things yet?”

His face lit up in a way that you didn’t want to imagine what kind of cruelty he’d had to endure to be so happy at a question so basic. 

“I am, actually. Cyberlife has been quite efficient at getting desired features out in a timely manner. It was very much an… overwhelming experience at first.”

You nodded.

“I didn’t realize _how_ exactly things tasted, and simply the range of it too. Logically, I knew that there was an insanely vast spectrum of sensory input in the form of taste, but until I’d experienced it for the first time… well. I think I almost fainted – or what would be the android equivalent – when I ate something for the first time.”

“What was the first thing you ate?” you inquired.

He still looked taken aback from your curiosity.

“It was a piece of pie, actually. Hank and I were at one of his favourite diners that was near the station. I had to admit that I was very envious of Hank after seeing him consume it so many times before. He promised me that when I was able to taste, it would be the first thing he took me to eat.”

You made eye contact with him, and you’d swear that you could see them twinkling.

“That’s… really sweet, Connor.” You offered a pathetic smile, and you hoped the longing wasn’t written on your forehead.

You quietly returned to your soup, wholeheartedly savoring the taste and filling yourself on Connor’s empathic gesture.

Sumo patiently sat beside Connor, being gently pat every once in a while, and you swear that he was probably holding back a whine as he looked longingly at the bowl in your hands, no doubt wanting whatever may be inside.

“May I ask you a personal question?” he said your name and asked softly.

You nodded. “Of course, Connor.”

“How did you and Nines meet?”

Your face washed cold. You didn’t know how well you’d be able to stumble and lie your way through the excuses.

“Um, I actually met him when I went out for drinks with some friends one night.” Not a lie. However, you didn’t feel inclined to leave in the piece of information telling Connor about how he followed you around town on a pub crawl, to approximately 7 different establishments.

Connor nodded along, and it seems as though he deemed your answer acceptable.

“When was that?”

“Uh, I think it was about a year ago actually.” A lie. It was nearly 8 months ago, and a few days after that dreaded night, you were ambushed on your way home from work, and woke up in an unfamiliar place.

“Really? Forgive me for sounding rude, but you moved here around 7 months ago right? Doesn’t that seem like an awfully short time to know someone before you move in with them?”

_Oh shit_. Your heart was positively fucking pounding – you were afraid to look at your chest because it felt as though you’d be able to see it.

“N-no, I don’t think so – when you know, you know, right?” you offered a pitiful giggle.

Connor nodded, seemingly in agreement. His gaze wandered back to the table in front of you, and his eye stopped on the open page of your sketchbook. Tentatively, he reached out to grab it, giving you ample time should you choose to stop him.

“You illustrated this?” he asked, his eyes not leaving the page.

You nodded, but then remembered he wasn’t even looking at you.

“Y-yeah I did. Just something to do with my hands, you know?” setting the now empty bowl back down, you wrung your hands together again from nerves.

“It’s… breathtaking,” he mumbled your name under his breath, his focus still not broken.

You flushed through you whole body from the genuine compliment. You could feel a weak buzzing in your hands – an old nervous reaction you’d had. He turned back to face you just as you began to open your mouth to speak.

“Th-thank you.” And he smiled warmly.

A frantic and admittedly desperate idea popped into your head, and before you lost the courage to voice it, you pushed it from your mouth as best you could.

“Do… do you want it?”

Connor paused, his eyebrows drawing together. “What?”

“The sketch. Do you want to keep it? The page is perforated – it tears out.”

You swore you saw the beginnings of a tear in his eye. He sharply turned back to you, taking you by surprise too fast to stop the small jump you gave in response.

“Could I?”

You giggled. “Yeah, of course, that’s why I asked. I mean, I don’t know what you’ll do with it, but-“

“At work.” He cut you off.

“Sorry?”

“At work, I have a desk. It has a bulletin board on one side – for the longest time, because of everything still simmering, I didn’t and couldn’t really put anything on it. I didn’t know anyone besides Hank. But, things started to change and I started to make what I would consider friends. I’ve been collecting different kinds of things to hang on it,” he animatedly talks with his hands as he explains. You both love and hate the tug that you feel inside your chest.

“Hank was the first to give me something to put up, it was a group photo of everyone at the station. I also have a photo of Sumo put up, as well as another piece of artwork my friend made – they were printed on posters and placed around the city shortly after the start of the Revolution, advocating for android rights and freedom.”

You softly smiled, and you had to stomp down the desire to hold him growing inside of you.

“And now you’ll have that one too.” As symbolic and meaningful it clearly was to Connor, it would be yet another flavorful piece of irony embedded in your situation. “You can consider it repayment for the soup.” You chuckled.

“Thank you, I can’t tell you how much your gesture means to me.”

“You’re welcome, Connor.” You talked as you tore the page out of your book, perfectly along the dotted line.

He glanced at it fondly again as you handed it to him. After a moment, he stood from his spot and made a gesture towards Sumo with his hand.

“I should go, Sumo will need to be fed soon, else he’ll start drooling all over your floor. And I should let you rest anyway.”

You nodded again, watching him move to gather his things.

“Thank you again for the soup, Connor, it was very, very good – make sure to tell Hank that it works wonders.”

He smiled and nodded, bidding his farewell standing near the front door.

“I will let him know. Thank you for the… sketch,” he was hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite sure it was the correct word to be using. “I greatly appreciate it. Rest up, and I hope you get well soon.”

You waved him goodbye, making sure to give Sumo a quick pat on the head before he was out the door.

Making your way back to the sofa, you threw yourself down onto it with force, scrubbing both your hands over your face.

While the soup did actually make you feel quite a bit better, you doubted it would go over well when Nines arrived home again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello yes i am back after a great depression bout thank you for putting up with my bs
> 
> warnings continue to apply for this chapter and the new content contains: extremely dubious consent/noncon (fade to black smut tho), extremely dubious consent/noncon of the main character (reader) being given an unnamed drug that acts like an aphrodisiac

You’d been drifting all day. It was the snap of the front door closing and locking that shocked you out of your vulnerable state.

You took in your surroundings as quickly as you possibly could with your still lagging brain. The kink in your neck made itself known. You’d made sure to clean and put away all of the dishes, right the bookshelf, and finish the remainder of the laundry before Nines got home. You didn’t want to possibly give him another reason to punish you – because you were sure that Connor’s visit today was going to be quite a blemish on your clean streak as of late.

You sat up in your spot, hands coming to rest in a neutral position in your lap and your back pulled up straight. You could hardly hear the whisper of clothing that signified a moving body.

In the left side of your peripheral, you spotted him, making his way to the kitchen. Your eyes tracked his movements, watching as he reached for the bowl in the corner of the counter, and coming away with an orange in his hand. He turned on his heel and stalked towards you.

Wordlessly, he handed you the orange, and you took it from him without hesitation (but still with a tremble).

Your movements were stiff. Tense, as if you were being backed into a hole in the ground by a wild panther with its fangs fully bared, its eyes burning holes into yours and daring you to try and move.

“Your blood sugar is getting low. Eat this, and I will prepare you dinner.”

You nodded; your eyes still locked with his in a battle of the wills that you were rigged to lose.

You could count on one hand the number of times you blinked while watching him move about the kitchen. You had to draw your attention back to your hands, just to make sure you were actually eating the orange that he’d handed you. When you finished it, you stood up, carefully and quietly walking into the kitchen to deposit the peel in the disposal, and with your hand open and still positioned over top of the bin Nines’ hand bolted out and grabbed your wrist, his grip just that side of too tight.

You couldn’t stop the startled gasp that escaped your lips, automatically trying to retract your arm, but his grip didn’t falter. You decided against your best judgement anyway, your desperate whimper clawing its way from the back of your throat. Your gaze slowly followed the line of his arm, until you could see the edges of icy blue irises through the beginnings of your frustrated and terrified tears.

“N-nines…?” you tested.

He smirked, letting out a quick puff of air through his nose that sounded nothing but smug. One by one, he removed the fingers encasing your wrist. You hoped you wouldn’t bruise, but the faint red marks circling your skin suggested otherwise.

You decided not to test your limits, if only for the sake of your survival. You still had entirely no idea what he was fully capable of, but there wasn’t a doubt in your mind, evident in his behaviour, that if you did end up leaving, it’d be in a body bag.

You’d been standing, rooted in your spot for probably entirely too long. But you weren’t talking, and you weren’t outwardly disobeying him, so he said nothing. You felt a tickle on your face, feeling two fresh tears race down – one on either cheek. You made it back to the sofa, but it didn’t quite feel like you were there either. You couldn’t feel the texture of the fabric, nor the cushion of the stuffing. Your body no longer felt like yours and you were watching it from miles away.

You had no idea how much time had passed when a plate was set down in front of you. It seemed you were staring at nothing in particular at the room’s furthest wall. Nines took a seat to your left, his weight making a dip in the seat. He gestured toward the plate, and you tentatively started placing forkful after forkful in your mouth, never once tasting the food.

Once you finished, you placed the cleared plate on the side table. You felt as if you were waiting for the rubber band to finally snap, a cringe evident on your features.

His eyes followed you, but you still refused to meet him in the middle. You were positively terrified, and he could _smell_ it. It was almost comically radiating off of you in waves.

“You’re very tense, love. Try to relax, being too wound up isn’t good for your health.”

You catch yourself before you can send a loaded glare his way. You’re able to coax yourself to relaxing your muscles a small amount, and Nines shifts in his spot to get closer to you. He gently places a large palm on your thigh, and you hate the fact that you lean into the touch. Your skin tingled in the wake of the trail he was drawing up your leg, on top of your hands that were rested in your lap, and finally settling on your bare forearms. His fingers were soft and warm where they were tickling your skin, drawing aimless patterns.

“Do you know _why_ you’re so tense, my love?”

You slowly nodded twice, your eyes not leaving his fingers.

“And why is that?”

You opened your mouth to attempt to answer, without knowing what you were going to say, but no sound came out. You cleared your throat to try again.

“I… I s-saw Connor t-today.” Figured that your anxious stutter would return with a vengeance now. Briefly, you remembered being endlessly teased in high school after giving oral presentations. You didn’t exactly look on it with fondness, but it did help distract you from the situation on hand.

A sound resembling a scoff came from a quick exhale through his nose.

“And do you know why I’m angry about that?”

Every response you made had to be a calculated one, and you decided not to take the gamble this time. His touch was tickling your jawline now, carefully tracing the bone up to your ear and touching the shell, daintily moving the few piercings you had back into their proper places.

It was foolish of you to think that he would continue to be gentle with you.

You didn’t really register the hand slipping into your hair and cupping the back of your head at first, but it quickly made itself known by closing around a fistful and harshly jerking your head backwards. You couldn’t move your head, so you had to move your gaze, just barely following him out of the corner of your eye. Nines moved closer to you, whispering in your ear. Two more tears rolled down your face.

_“Who do you belong to?”_

“You – it’s you, Nines, only you.” You quickly offered, a wet sob threatening to break out of your chest.

His hand came up to your face and you instinctively flinched. He wiped away the trails of your tears with the tip of his finger and then brought it to his mouth, efficiently dipping his fingers on to his tongue.

He released his hold on your hair and you saw Nines walked over to the bathroom and went to reach under the sink. You watched as he peeled his skin back to interface with the bio lock on the lock box. With calculated movements, he reached inside a retrieved a small, unmarked prescription medication bottle (obtained illegally of course), twisting the child lock off with ease. Returning to the living room, he placed a small, pink, triangular pill on the table, a crisp and cold glass of water coming down right next to it a moment later. Your stomach dropped and you tried to hide the shaking of your hands by tightly grasping them together in your lap.

He looked at you from where he was standing next to where you were seated on the sofa, towering over you, only adding to his domineering radiance. He smirked.

“As usual, you can take it. Or don’t. It won’t change my actions; only how much you enjoy them.”

You nodded. It usually took around an hour to take effect, and usually lasted about four. You carried a complex love-hate relationship with it. On one hand, you were essentially being force-fed a drug that you didn’t know the components of, and on the other hand, the near overwhelming spike of pleasurable hormones to your system after having gone for such a period without so much as a loving glance sent your way was a relief in and of itself. The creator of whatever drug you were currently washing down certainly knew exactly what they were doing. You wondered if this was the intention they had for it.

You finished off the glass of water and with shaky hands, set it back on the coffee table. Nines reached out to run his fingers through your hair again.

“Good girl.” You wrestled with the fact that the statement set your nerves alight, washing over your body from head to toe.

Your sight was trained on him as he took sat down in the chair placed next to the sofa, his legs taking their most comfortable position and falling widely open. You cursed at the part of your brain that encouraged you to take your place on the floor in between them. However, you hadn’t been instructed to do so, and you weren’t about to anger Nines any further.

He propped a hand on the arm rest and rested his chin against a closed fist.

“Come here.” He ordered, and gently patted his thigh.

You slowly rose from your spot, but efficiently scrambled into a straddle on his lap. You could feel his cock stirring through his layers of work clothes, and your body traitorously ached deep in your core.

His hands softly traveled up your thighs and settled against your hips as if the dips of flesh there were simply made for him to grab on to.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me, since you were so disobedient today?”

You offered a nod.

_“Say it.”_ he warned.

“Yes.”

One hand left your hip to once again uncomfortably thrust your neck in an awkward arch backwards from his first in your hair.

“Yes, _what?_ ”

“ _Yes, sir._ ” You whispered.

You couldn’t help the stirrings of heat inside your chest, despite the goosebumps that littered your skin as you obediently let Nines peel your layers of clothing away.

It was only when you felt the familiar tingle starting at the ends of your limbs from the drug starting to take effect did you finally check out and let the pleasurable sensations take over your consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to leave this here (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_domestic_violence_hotlines) 
> 
> with that being said, this is all a work of fiction and I genuinely hope you enjoyed my work regardless!
> 
> I'm on tumblr @gavinreeds please come yell at me!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one changes POV to third person from Connor, just so that you're aware!
> 
> side note, I just saw that I apparently posted chapter 2 on the 1st of march, and I have almost no memory of it, and after everything that's been happening in the world I honestly am living on another plane of existence lately lmao so please enjoy my offer into escapist coping

Connor always found evening walks comforting. Slowly and carelessly wandering the side streets with Sumo under the light of the moon and the stars. And more recently, Hank, after some more lecturing about Hank’s level of physical activity.

They’d been talking for the duration of their walk – Connor couldn’t quite contain his excitement (and also some apprehension) to let Hank know about how his day off went, and how _now he has another piece of artwork to put up!_

They’d begun to round the corner of their street. Connor hadn’t realized he’d come to a stop in front of Nines’ residence until Hank gently shook his shoulder.

“Con?” he spoke gently.

Connor paused for a moment, unlocking his gaze from the house to look over at Hank.

“I-“ he started, but before he could get out the rest of his sentence, a muffled but high pitched scream sounded from the house. Both of them snapped their heads to attention, and their training took over.

Hank quickly ran across the street to put Sumo safely back inside the house before running back to join Connor, where he had already started toward Nines’ front door.

Connor felt Hank wordlessly press his handgun into the back of his waistband, and knew Hank had done the same. He brought his fist down on the front of the door three times before calling out.

“It’s Connor and Hank, open up!” normally, he would have probably been more polite, but even Hank could see the budding of suspicion in his features – and if Hank felt his heart fondly tug at Connor’s sentiment and care, he didn’t say anything.

The lock clicked, and they both stepped back.

The opened door revealed Nines, not at all looking suspicious, but… almost flushed?

Connor quickly took inventory of the android in front of him. His chest and feet were bare, leaving him only in a large and baggy pair of gray sweatpants through which Connor could clearly see he wasn’t wearing anything under. It was exceedingly obvious what he’d just been up to.

Connor didn’t really know what to make of the wave of raw anger that washed over him.

“My apologies - Detective, Lieutenant.” Nines nodded to each of them respectively. “This is… rather embarrassing.”

Connor internally scoffed and nearly had to bite his tongue to keep from telling him to recalibrate his body language.

Before Connor could open his mouth and let Nines know just _exactly_ how he felt about it, Hank put a warm hand on his shoulder, silently sending him a message.

“It’s alright, it happens – we heard, uh… screaming on our way back home and got concerned.” Hank said.

Nines nodded, and Connor kind of wanted to punch the smarmy grin right off of his face.

“Ah, yes. Well, I can assure you that everyone is perfectly fine, but I appreciate your concern.”

Connor quickly scanned the interior that was visible to him while Nines was talking. A leftover dinner plate on the side tables. Discarded clothing on the sofa. A glass of water on the coffee table. Nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing that could warrant any type of questioning.

“Well, sorry for bothering you,” Hank offered, “we’ll get going now. Good night Nines.”

Connor didn’t offer him anything more than a slight nod. He could tell that Nines knew something, whether he was picking up on his apprehension or his newly founded jealousy, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Sumo greeted them back in the house with large swoops of his tail, even though they were gone less than five minutes.

“Well. That was awkward.” Hank offered into the tense space.

Connor hummed in response. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was in agreeance though.

It was still gnawing at him, though. Hours later, watching Hank struggle to stay awake to watch the basketball game and gently petting Sumo’s heavy head rested in his lap. It wasn’t sitting right in Connor’s mind. Was he letting his emotions take over, instead of relying on the facts he knew and the investigative code that was embedded into his being?

Silently and efficiently, he connected to the DPD database while Sumo drooled on his pants. At first he thought that a name would be sufficient enough of a start, but when entered into the search, it came up empty. He attempted a process of elimination then. Physical descriptors and other basic characteristics any other officer would have to use to find a missing person’s entry. However, the results for those came back too broad, and Connor had no knowledge of any kind of personalized birth marks, scars, or tattoos she might have had.

He had intent to continue, but unfortunately had to put his search to the back burner for the night when Hank accidentally snored himself awake and (finally) decided it was time for bed.

He vowed to pick his search back up in the morning, and perhaps there were other sources at the DPD at his disposal that he was too side tracked to remember at the moment. 

They both said goodnight to Sumo before retiring, and Connor fell into his stasis with the unfamiliar feeling of anxiety tugging at his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments simultaneously keep me going and light a fire under my ass so feel free to yell all about it in a comment!!
> 
> i'm on tumblr @gavinreeds


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always fall into unintended hiatuses with my ongoing works but shit kinda hit the fan recently so yeah
> 
> general and blanket warnings apply for this chapter as well, but no actual descriptions of things happening but i'm sure yall know all those warnings by now
> 
> also we stan a gavin reed redemption arc
> 
> also i have no idea how police systems work and you can tell but whatever

“Lieutenant.”

“Oh no.” Hank grumbled.

Connor tilted his head in question. “What is it?”

“We’re past the Lieutenant phase, Connor. You only call me that when you’re about to beg me to let you adopt another dog, or something is bothering you.” Connor watched as Hank reached for the mug sitting in front of his computer screen. “and seeing as you’re not bouncing off the walls, I’m gonna assume it’s the latter.”

Connor frowned. He didn’t think that he was becoming so predictable. Connor opened his mouth, like he meant to say something, but Hank interrupted him.

“What is it, Con?” Hank sipped on his coffee, eyes trained on Connor’s face, carefully watching for his reaction. He’d never admit it to his face, but Connor definitely expressed more emotion than he thought he did, and Hank wasn’t an investigator for nothing.

Connor hesitated.

“Do you remember two months ago, when we rescued the woman who was held hostage by that aggressive PM700?”

Hank raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah… why? What’s that gotta do with anything?”

Connor’s face scrunched up in what appeared to be something akin to annoyance before settling his chin in his palm, faced forward and absently staring at his computer.

“Con?”

“I- I just…” he started. “I have a bad feeling.”

Hank briefly sees white ice and snow in his mind’s eye for a moment, and feels the same kind of apprehension he felt then as well. Carefully, he leaned forward more, trying to cautiously convey his well intended interest.

“‘bout what?”

Connors eyes flicked over to Nines, currently standing beside Detective Reed’s desk and attempting to get his attention. It was a very quick turn of his eyes, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the elder Lieutenant.

Connor shook his head and sighed frustratedly, vaulting himself away from his desk and retreating into the break room.

Hank got up to follow him, and found Connor making himself a cup of tea that he’d grown into since gaining the ability to taste. He mentioned on more than one occasion to Hank why he understood now that humans found drinking hot things so relaxing.

Though Connor’s gaze was focused on the task in front of him, Hank knew that he sensed his presence behind him.

“That hostage…”

“Lucy.” Hank grunted and motioned for him to continue.

Hank was very good at remembering names.

“Lucy. It took two hours to convince her to leave, even after the android was apprehended. Why do you think that was?”

Hank nodded, listening to Connor speak while leaning himself against the countertop.

“Well, from looking at the report, she was conditioned to believe that leaving would have put her in danger. Unfortunately, the android was a police model, so not only did they have access to profiling methods and psychological cases, they had experience too. Knew exactly how to break someone in just the right way.”

Connor’s brows drew together tightly.

“Who took Lucy’s report again?” Connor knew he could look it up faster than Hank could say a name out loud, but then he’d have to stomach the descriptions of reading what was done to her.

“Reed.”

Connor tilted his head.

“I know, I know. Trust me, he’s a dick, but he’s not _that_ type of dick. Dunno why, never seemed like the right place for me to ask – he’s always on top of the domestic and sexual abuse cases.”

Hank chuckled under his breath, and Connor sent him a questioning look.

“He remembers all their dates too.” Hank adds.

“Dates?” Connor quirks a brow.

“Yeah: hearing, parole… release.” Hank paused, glancing in the direction of Detective Reed’s desk through the opening of the break room. “He makes sure those fuckers get every fuckin’ minute they deserve.”

Connor hesitates to reply, and though he wasn’t yet deviant when he first learned about the elder Lieutenant’s moral gray area, that moment that he shared with him still sits close to his imitative heart. Connor doesn’t say anything.

Hank leans forward and softly places his hand on Connor’s shoulder, leaning closer to his ear to whisper.

“We’ll talk at home.”

Connor nodded to himself, since Hank was already on his way out.

Connor continues to busy his hands making his cup of tea, but for how long he stood there with a furrowed brow staring at the liquid while the tea bag continued to steep wasn’t entirely clear.

He hears the steps coming, they’re distinguishable in any case, which is the only reason why he doesn’t startle when Reed over-projects his voice when he addresses him.

“Fucking christ tin man, the fuck’s eating you?” and when he gestures to Connor, the android realizes that he was so lost in his thoughts that he’d let his breathing simulation be swept under the rug.

He takes an unneeded breath and watches Reed’s one eyebrow tick upward as he waits for his reply. It seems the Detective is also in the break room to re-caffeinate. Truth be told, Connor feels the swell of admiration in his chest over the fact that Reed even considered to ask him. Two or three months ago, he would have forcibly moved him out of the way.

“Detective Reed-“

“Oh god,” Reed rolls his eyes and apparently continues what he came into the break room for.

Connor steadies himself before opening his mouth to speak.

“You were the one who took Lucy’s report,” he intended it to be a question for the purpose of being friendlier, but there wasn’t a point in asking on something he knew to be true.

The detective freezes, reaching for a fresh cup for his coffee. He sees from the movement of his jaw that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “What about it?” Reed bites out as if preparing for a fight. Perhaps he thought Connor wanted to point out human errors in his paperwork.

“Why would one being held in captivity not attempt to escape given the chance? According to the report, there were very minimal traps put in place to keep her there.”

The detective seems to drop some of his tension, and continues making his coffee.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you got the whole of the DPD in your fuckin’ head and you still ask me? So much for Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype.” He smirks and shakes his head at himself.

“Well, in technicality, I no longer hold that title. Nines is my successor-“

Connor doesn’t miss the way his brows draw together ever so slightly.

“and a primary source of information is always more favorable than a secondary or tertiary one.”

Reed stops to sip his coffee, eyeing Connor over the rim of the cup.

“It’s basic psychology, dipshit. In cases like that they’ve been conditioned at the very least, and at most they’ve got total Stockholm syndrome.”

Just as Detective Reed finishes his sentence, he sees a ping from Nines pop up on his HUD.

_It’s not often that you and Detective Reed are able to have a civil conversation._

Connor internally frowns. He’s unsure of whether Nines is stating that at face value or if it’s a warning against him probing further.

**Author's Note:**

> me, writing four different scenes at the same time: IS THIS HOW YOU DO THE WRITING???????
> 
> next parts coming soon! I'm not entirely sure how many parts it will be, but it won't be super long so please bear with me lol


End file.
